


The Treaty

by MonarqueNocturne



Category: Naruto
Genre: Couple resolving issues in a healthy way, Established couple, Fluff, Kakashi is the Hokage, M/M, Not that he likes it, Politics, Spies and Assassins, domestic life, multiple POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:23:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonarqueNocturne/pseuds/MonarqueNocturne
Summary: Somewhere, the Minister of Agriculture is assassinated.In Konoha, Iruka and Kakashi argue if they should buy seaweed or not.After all, Gai is allergic, and he's coming over for dinner.Somehow, it all fits in the same story.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [houkouonchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/houkouonchi/gifts).



> This fic was born from a request from houkouonchi for the Kakairufest. I did fit the jealous Kakashi somewhere in this story, between the grumpy old lady and the whining about paperwork. Er... Sorry about the lack of Sherlocky things. Somehow the plot decided to run wild. (...Oops?)
> 
> I hope you still enjoy!

**The Treaty**

  
  


There was a sound at the window. 

Some sort of tapping. “Tap, tap, tap”. Iruka turned his head toward the sound, hair glued over his cheek, eyes half-shut against the light. He dragged a hand from under the covers and rubbed his eyes before rolling on his other side, nose coming to rest against the clothed shoulder of his bedmate. 

“Kakashi,” Iruka said. He was interrupted by a yawn that made his jaw creak. “‘Kashi, you’ve got mail.” 

Apparently Kakashi had heard the tapping before Iruka, because his head was already buried under his pillow, arms pressing it against his ears to cut off sound. “Ngh,” the man grunted from under his makeshift sound shield. 

Iruka snuggled against Kakashi’s shoulder, throwing an arm over his back and breathing in his scent, the cotton of Kakashi’s pyjama soft against Iruka’s cheek. The teacher closed his eyes and let his breathing slow back down, ignoring the persistent little taps from the window. After a few minutes, as Iruka was starting to fall back asleep, Kakashi grunted again and rolled under Iruka’s arm, facing him. “I guess I better go check this out,” he said, voice raspy from sleep. Iruka’s eyes flickered open, and he smiled at Kakashi’s sleepy face. “Probably,” he laughed, before closing in and kissing his lover lightly on the lips. Kakashi wrinkled his nose. “Bleh. Morning breath.” 

Iruka gasped in mock-indignation. “How dare you!” He pushed Kakashi on his back and straddled him, blowing at Kakashi’s face while the man laughed and squirmed. “Iruka! Stop! Argh, stinking breath-” 

“Alright, alright,” Iruka laughed back, getting off Kakashi and out of the bed. “I’ll go.” As he walked around the bed, Iruka suddenly gripped the covers and pulled them off, destroying Kakashi’s cocoon of warmth. 

“Iruka!”

The teacher laughed as he walked to the bathroom, ignoring his boyfriend’s curses. 

When he came back to the bedroom, Kakashi was sitting on the mattress, reading a missive. His playfulness from earlier was mostly gone. His shoulders were tense and his brows down in a frown. Iruka went for his clothes. As he dressed, he asked: “Do you have time for breakfast?”

“I think so,” Kakashi answered, voice still rough from sleep. He looked up, hesitant. “Do you think you could…?” 

“Go take your shower,” Iruka ordered. “I’ll get some food ready.”

As Kakashi took his turn in the bathroom, Iruka finished dressing efficiently, started breakfast, made two lunches with leftovers from the last day, and prepared his own bag. The eggs were just finishing cooking when Kakashi arrived, looking decidedly more awake, hair wet from his shower. “Eat,” Iruka said, gesturing at the table. “No cheating. I don’t want to see a protein bar in this house, and don’t think I didn’t find your secret stash. I’ll be a minute.” 

Kakashi wolfed down his food and finished more slowly when Iruka joined him with the eggs. “Will you need me today?” Iruka asked. 

“...Yes,” Kakashi said, apologetically. “I won’t have much time for administrative business. I’ve had bad news.”

“You can brief me at the office,” Iruka said. “I’ll have to go and get somebody to cover for me first, though.” 

“Of course.”

Soon after Kakashi was gone, off to work, and Iruka sighed at the mess in the kitchen. He rinsed the plates and left them in the sink, put the food back in the fridge, made a mental note to check to water the plants when he came back in the evening, and locked the door after putting his bag over his shoulder. 

Iruka walked to the Academy. No need to run anymore, as the building was situated quite close to their little house, something Iruka was grateful for every single day. Iruka climbed the stairs to the second floor, where he went to the teacher’s lounge. A few teachers were already there, drinking coffee and chatting as they corrected late homework or made class-plans.

“Hey, guys,” Iruka greeted. He was answered by a variety of distracted voices. “Is Hinata around? I need to talk to her.”

“Are you going to leave the poor girl alone again?” Takuji, a fellow teacher, called. “You know she’s not quite there yet.”

Iruka scratched his cheek. “Yes, I know,” he said, before sighing. “She really needs a co-tutor. I’ll try to figure something out.” 

It wasn’t hard to hunt down Hinata. She was writing the lesson-plan for the day on the board, brows drawn down in concentration. She jumped at the sound of the door sliding open. “Hello, Hinata.”

“Teacher!” Hinata answered, smiling. “You are early.” Then, taking in Iruka’s lack of smile, she blushed, her automatic response to any emotional input. “Oh. Are you needed at the Tower again?” 

“I’m afraid so,” Iruka said, smiling apologetically. “Do you think you can handle the students alone for today? As always, you can call on any other teacher if something goes wrong.”

“Of-of course!” Hinata said, but she hid her disappointment badly. “I’ll do my best, teacher.” 

Iruka was still thinking about this problematic situation as he left the Academy and made his way to the Hokage tower. He had taken Hinata as an intern a few months back, but now that Kakashi had taken the title of sixth Hokage and started leaning more and more on him to help him out in his duties, Iruka’s time for the Academy had been drastically reduced. It made Iruka feel bad for Hinata and for their students. He wasn’t giving them the attention they deserved. 

Iruka climbed the Tower, greeting employees left and right, and went through the various security points to get to the office. It wasn’t exactly  _ his _ office, even though he was the one who used it the most, these days. Kakashi needed an official assistant, but he had fired the ones that had been presented to him within days. Iruka was kind of an in-between. He couldn’t even remember when it had all started. He had offered to help to sort out the mission roster, and then he had come back to organize files, and so on, and one day he realized that he had worked more hours in the Tower than at the Academy that week-

Oh, well. All for the good of the village. 

(And for Kakashi.)

Iruka read a few missives that had been left on the massive oak desk in the corner of the room, set down his things, and went to knock on Kakashi’s door to let him know that he had arrived. 

Kakashi was writing a letter when he entered the room. He glanced up, offering a weak smile, but he bent back down immediately after to continue writing. Iruka didn’t interrupt him. He knew that Kakashi, with his poor handwriting and lack of people skills, hated writing his own correspondences. Another thing that could be taken care of if he bloody  _ chose _ an assistant. He went back to the office and went to work. 

“Sorry about earlier.” Iruka looked up from the list he had been writing. Kakashi was leaning against the doorframe. The teacher glanced at his clock. Half-an-hour had passed. 

“It’s okay,” Iruka smiled as he got up. “Are you ready for my briefing?” 

Kakashi nodded. “There’s just one thing I have to do first.” 

Before Iruka could ask what, exactly, he needed to do, Kakashi had walked into the room to Iruka and bent down to kiss him shortly before pressing his cheek against Iruka’s with a sigh. “I’m energizing,” Kakashi grumbled. Iruka chuckled. 

They sat in Iruka’s un-official office as Kakashi explained the situation. “Our Minister of agriculture has been assassinated,” Kakashi announced. 

Iruka startled. “Daisuke Arakawa? Why? Do we know who did it?” 

Kakashi shook his head. “It’s complicated. I’m just starting to figure everything out. The Daimyo thinks the killer was some Grass spy. A man named Isao.”

Iruka frowned. “He escaped, I assume.”

“It seems so.” Kakashi sighed. “The thing is, Arakawa was working on an important treaty with Wind. Something about agricultural technologies. I don’t know much about it, it was kept under wrap pretty tightly.” 

“Did Arakawa have a successor? Somebody who can take things over now that he’s… gone?” Iruka asked. 

Kakashi rubbed his nose. “Well, here’s the first catch. Arakawa’s head assistant  _ was _ Isao.”

Iruka lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “The assassin?” 

“Yep,” Kakashi said, leaning back into his chair. “The Daimyo is in a panic. I’ve received at least five missives this morning, but I’m still waiting for details about this treaty. I’ve already sent for a team of trackers to catch Isao. They should come by any minute, now.”

Iruka nodded. “How sure are they that this Isao did it?”

“Pretty sure,” Kakashi said. “He disappeared with most of the scrolls carrying the secrets of the project. There were small splatters of blood in his room, most likely from the badly wiped weapon of the crime. Arakawa was stabbed to death. Very gory, I’ve been told.” 

“How do we know Isao was Grass’?” Iruka asked. 

“He was a known spy,” Kakashi said. “We have loads of them at the Daimyo’s court. They can come as pretty handy. You feed them the information you want, they bring it back to their masters. I don’t know why he was allowed in such a strategic position, though.”

At this, Kakashi was interrupted by a knock at the door. Both men turned their heads to see who had arrived. 

“Sir Hokage,” the first of a group of four said, saluting sloppily. It was Genma, Iruka saw, as nonchalant as ever. He hadn’t even bothered to take out the senbon from between his teeth before addressing his leader.

“Shiranui,” Kakashi nodded back. Iruka watched as he turned his eyes to the rest of the group, nodding to each shinobi. “Aburame, Inuzuka, Oba. Welcome.” Iruka felt a small spark of pride, mixed with worry, at seeing Shino Aburame’s young face among the group. Same age as Naruto, he remembered. A quiet kid with enormous potential. He had loved teaching him : a bright, but solemn child. 

Iruka listened as Kakashi explained the situation once again, before exposing the parameters of the group’s mission. “I need you to capture Isao of Grass. Alive, if possible. The situation is still murky, and I want more information before using lethal measures. Isao broke through several lines of defense, at the very heart of the Daimyo’s court, to assassinate Arakawa. He has at least some measure of skills. Don’t underestimate him. Shiranui, you’ll lead the mission. Oba, you’ll take over if something happens to Shiranui. I want regular reports until the capture.” 

When they were gone, Iruka wondered: “Do we have reports of our  _ own _ spies in Grass?” 

“It’s still too early,” Kakashi shook his head. “But I think we should hear from them through the day. And we’ll get some sort of official response from Grass, I expect, protesting over any involvement in the matter, I’m sure. I’ll keep you updated.” 

“Okay,” Iruka said. As Kakashi seemed reluctant to get up, he asked: “Would you prefer to work here? I can give you a corner of the desk. This thing’s size is monstrous.” 

Kakashi passed a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “It’s not a good idea. I’ll keep getting distracted.” 

“I can work in silence, you know-” Iruka frowned, feeling blood flush his cheeks in annoyance. 

Kakashi smiled behind his mask. “Silly. That’s not what I meant.” With a quick kiss to Iruka’s cheek, he strode out of the room. 

The morning passed in a blur of paperwork, followed by a quick lunch with Kakashi. Things had come from simply alarming to frankly perplexing. Kakashi had received a confused missive from the Daimyo. “Did you know that our Minister of agriculture had a sister?” Kakashi asked over his noodles. 

“No,” Iruka answered between two bites of his own. “I’m sure you’ll tell me why that’s important to the current situation.” 

“You’ll never believe it. I think we’ve been thrown into some sort of spy novel.” 

Iruka raised his eyebrows in interrogation, clicking his chopsticks together in impatience. “What?” 

“Well,” Kakashi started, “turns out Daisuke Arakawa was a good-for-nothing who lazed around in bed instead of working. It’s his  _ sister _ who did the actual work behind the treaty.” 

“You’re kidding.” Iruka stared. Kakashi looked smug. “You’re not kidding. She has no official status?” 

“Nope!” Kakashi slurped some more noodle. A stray drop hit Iruka square in the face. 

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Kakashi said, looking not sorry at all. “So, yeah. Women can’t be ministers. I know, I know, it’s stupid. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve worked under Tsunade, like everybody here. Hell,  _ Sakura _ was my student.” Powerful women indeed. Kakashi leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “So the wrong sibling was assassinated, and we can still finish putting together the treaty in time. There’s some sort of deadline, I think, otherwise the arrangement has to be renegotiated.” 

“Poor woman,” Iruka mused. “What are they doing with her, now?” 

“Sending her over here,” Kakashi said, looking down at Iruka. “She couldn’t be protected at the capital, so the Daimyo wants us to keep her safe, at least until her brother’s killer has been captured.” 

“Who’s organizing her protection in Konoha?” 

Kakashi hummed. “Well. I’m posting a team of ANBU with her and I thought of assigning Gai to be her guide in the village.” 

Iruka had to smile at that. Gai would  _ love _ that role. “Good choice. Anything else?” 

“Well. Just standard procedures. Posting more guards at the gates, keeping the forces informed, that kind of stuff.” 

At Kakashi’s slightly pained expression, Iruka said: “I know you’d rather be one of the guards yourself, but you’re doing good. You can delegate some of the work that’s left. What about asking Shikamaru to organize in-village defense?” 

Kakashi’s face brightened. “Maah, you’re right!  _ He _ can think about all the little details.” A sigh. “I do have about a thousand other matters to attend to. The village doesn’t stop for a crisis.” 

“I’ll finish up here and come help you with your paperwork. Come on, go summon Shikamaru.”

*

Somewhere else, in the capital of Fire country, Choko Arakawa was trying to find her shoes. 

The practical pair, not the monstrosities her attendant, Aiwa, loved to make her wear. And because she wanted her lady to be fashionable, Aiwa had hidden the flat-soled shoes somewhere, and now she was dead, and nobody could find the  _ bloody shoes _ . 

Suddenly, Choko had an idea. She ran to her wardrobe, pulled up a chair and climbed. Only to realize that she could not reach the top shelf, even like this. Fed up, she jumped down and called out the guard at her door. “Stop playing dead and come help me,” she fumed. “Do you see a pair of shoes up there?” 

The guard’s face stayed carefully blank at Choko’s choice of wording, but he still came in and climbed up the chair. He pulled out a box. “This may be it, my lady.” 

“Well, give it to me.” Choko opened the box brusquely, only to find a variety of absolutely useless hair ornaments. “Damn, damn,” she murmured under her breath. “I’ll make-do with Aiwa’s idea of footwear, then.” 

Leaving her guard behind, Choko finished packing her personal belongings. Most of her things had already been taken by various employees of the palace, who had prepared a carriage for the journey to Konoha. She stuffed her handbag with a few remaining objects, finished two urgent letters and left them to a servant to be sent, and was escorted to the courtyard, where her travelling circus was waiting for her. 

“Lady Arakawa. I’m sorry for your loss. Your brother was a great man.” 

_ No, he wasn’t, _ Choko thought as she was offered various platitudes by the team she was to travel with and the people who came to see her off.  _ He was a sad man. Not a bad man, really. Just not… great. _

As she sat in the carriage, fake-sleeping to avoid conversation, images of the last day came back to her.

_ She was the one who had opened the door. There was a party downstairs, in the ballroom, and Choko was fed up with the small talk, so she had gone to check over her brother. Too ill to come, had been his official statement. Probably drunk out of his mind, Choko thought. How many years, now, since her nephew and sister-in-law’s death? Six, seven?  _

_ Choko had not noticed anything odd before stepping in the poodle of cooling blood.  _

_ She had not screamed over seeing the guard’s empty eyes, but instead of doing the sensible thing and turning back, calling for help, she had pressed on. Aiwa’s body was further in, crumbled in a ridiculous position. She would have wept for the indignation. Choko had left her, her pace increasing, her heart pounding. When she came into her brother’s bedchamber and saw what was left of him, she  _ did _ scream. _

Choko opened her eyes. Resolutely, she looked outside at the fields, ignoring her travelling companions. And then she waited, the metallic smell of blood still filling her nose.  

*

Iruka was working at the kitchen table when Kakashi finally arrived home. It was late. The man looked utterly tired, mumbling a weak hello before heading straight for the bathroom. Iruka heard the hiss of the shower starting, for the second time that day. Iruka rubbed the ridge of his nose to alleviate a slight headache that was starting to bother him. 

“You should have eaten,” Kakashi said when he came back, several minutes later, pulling a chair next to Iruka. 

“I would have, but I started working, and you know how I get,” Iruka smiled. “I’ll just heat things up.”

“No, let me.”

Iruka put his chin in his palms, elbows on the table, as he watched Kakashi work in silence. He noted absently that there was a hole in the old t-shirt his boyfriend was wearing that needed mending. He would need to mention it later. Slowly, as Kakashi went through the familiar motions of heating up diner, Iruka saw the tension go out of his shoulders. Kakashi dropped back on his chair and let his head rest on Iruka’s shoulder for a moment. “Has Arakawa’s sister arrived?” 

“Yes,” Kakashi said. “We set her in the dignitary suite. God, she brought half-a-dozen courtiers with her. One of them had a feather in his hat. It was awful.”

“The hat or the courtiers?”

“What? Oh, everything. Everything was awful,” Kakashi grumbled before straightening up and starting to eat. 

The smell of heated up food finally awakening his stomach, Iruka made small work of his own plate. “I think I could handle a few dignitaries,” Iruka mused. 

“Don’t tempt me,” Kakashi snorted. “You know I’d give you the hat and be done with it if I had half-the-chance.” 

“You’d give it to anybody,” Iruka teased.

“No, not anybody,” Kakashi huffed. “I wouldn’t give it to that prat with the feather.”

It was already quite late, so they left the dishes for another day and went to bed. (They both disliked making dishes. There often was a small mountain of dirty plates in their sink.) Climbing into bed, Iruka reached for a book on his nightstand. Kakashi, fast as lightning, pulled it out of his fingers. “Nope, not tonight, Ru.”

“Oh, come on, just a few pages.” 

“Yeah, right,” Kakashi said in disbelief. “You’re a menace, you chronic reader. I’ll wake up at four in the morning and you’ll still have your nose in it.” He threw the book away. Iruka’s cry of dismay was cut short as Kakashi tackled him to the mattress. “Come on, Ru. Sleeeeep.” 

Iruka’s indignation dissipated as quickly as it had come. He laughed. “Alright, you big oaf. But get off of me.” 

They snuggled, even though Iruka knew that Kakashi would soon roll over, out of the embrace. Even after five years, falling asleep while being touched was a struggle. For now, though, he basked into the heat of his friend.

*

Kakashi woke up with a start. 

He glanced at the clock on his bedstand. 3:45, it projected laughingly at him. Next to him, Iruka was still asleep, snoring lightly. Kakashi resisted the temptation to press his face against the wide back facing him, not wanting to wake-up the teacher, and got up silently of bed. 

He walked without a sound their small kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of water. He was shivering slightly, sweat cooling on his skin. The cold draft near the window didn’t help. A hard shudder almost made him gasp. With controlled motions, Kakashi pressed his palms on the counter, shifting his weight on his arms, and started counting slowly under his breath. 

Soon enough the trembling stopped. Already he was forgetting what he had dreamt about. Not important. There were so many events that could have inspired the nightmare, he didn’t try to sort them out anymore. His control regained, Kakashi finished his glass of water and went back to sit in his favourite couch, in the living room. He was tempted to open an Icha Icha book. Reading them always grounded him. But he felt bad, after stopping Iruka to do the same thing (not the same situation, he knew. Iruka knew. He would call his thought-process stupid, and tell him: whatever helps, love. But still, Kakashi felt guilty, and he hated feeling guilty). He got up, restless, and watered the plants. Then he went outside and trimmed the bushes. He had promised Iruka he would do it weeks ago. There, done. He came back inside and stared at the dishes, calculating if he could make them without making enough noise to wake-up Iruka. Probably not. 

“Kakashi?” He heard his name being called from the bedroom. “Come back to sleep, love.” 

Another twinge of guilt. He had thought to be sneaky enough not to disturb Iruka. Obedient, Kakashi came back to bed, slipping under the covers with a small: “Sorry.” 

Iruka groaned something. His eyes were half-opened, sticky with sleep, and his hair was a mess. It was adorable. “Why do you have a leaf…?” Iruka grumbled, reaching for Kakashi’s hair and pulling out said leaf. 

“I did the bushes,” Kakashi answered. 

Iruka chuckled. “You weirdo,” he whispered, voice full of affection. Kakashi’s heart squeezed with a wave of love. He felt his entire face and neck flush at the way Iruka was looking at him. Embarrassed, he buried his face in his pillow. “Stop it,” Kakashi said, voice muffled. 

“I love you,” Iruka mumbled, before closing his eyes and yawning. Soon enough, his breathing had evened out again. Kakashi willed his heart to stop pounding and smiled into the pillow before readjusting his position and trying to go back to sleep. 

*

The room was nice and comfortable. The bed had fluffy pillow. Choko had tried them out for about ten minutes, before giving up and returning to pacing. Then she had made herself some coffee, had dressed back into day-clothes (barefoot, though), and had started organizing her files. If she was to work for an extended period of time in Konoha, she would need to have her things right the way she liked. 

It took part of the night. She made herself more coffee and read a report from farmers near the coast. They had a bad season due to a vicious species of locusts, and worried that the epidemic would spread outside their territory. Choko made a note ( _ insect exterm. ask Aburame cl. fr help? _ ). She went through more correspondence. When she got tired of the endless letters, she went back to the draft of the treaty. It was titled, tentatively,  _ Agreement for heavy machinery and resource trading _ , the seal of the Ministry of agriculture right beneath the large characters. 

It was as good piece of work. Months of emissaries going back and forth between Fire and Wind’s capitals, thousands of hours of research, and finally, this almost,  _ almost _ finished project. This could potentially end Wind’s food problems and make Fire very, very rich. Well, richer than the country already was, that is. It had been an excellent exercise of international cooperation, and it made Choko hopeful for the future. 

At eight in the morning, a messenger came to tell Choko that the Hokage was now ready to see her. Choko thought about it for a second, decided she didn’t care to climb up all the way to the man’s office after the last 48 hours she had had, and told the messenger that the Hokage could very well come down and see  _ her _ , thank you very much. She savored the messenger’s scandalized expression.

Minutes later, she heard voices arguing in the corridor. 

“-was kidding about this, you know-”

“Well I wasn’t, so you can bloody let me-”

“We’re here. We’ll talk about it later,” the first voice said with finality. 

There was a knock on Choko’s door. “Enter,” she called, curious.

Two men came into the suite. The first Choko recognized instantly as Konoha’s new Hokage, Kakashi Hatake. He was infamous for being difficult to work with, and she had had colleagues complaining about it at various times in the last few months. With his trademark silver hair and mask, completed with Kage’s robes, he made for an impressive figures, towering over Choko’s small stature. Choko had known about him before his appointment, of course. There weren’t many shinobi in Fire that could pretend to the same level of fame. 

The man next to him was almost eclipsed by the Hokage. He was shorter, but built on a larger frame than the Hokage, and there was little that made his appearance remarkable. Average features, except for a scar on his nose, brown hair kept in a short ponytail, regular shinobi uniform. He stood, Choko noticed, very much at ease next to the Hokage. 

“Lady Arakawa,” the Hokage nodded shortly at her. “My condolences for your brother.”

“Thank you,” Choko said. “Please do come in.” She led them to the kitchen, where she had transformed the large table and counters into a work station. 

“This is my assistant, Iruka Umino,” Hatake said, presenting her companion.

“Pleasure,” Choko said shortly. 

“It is all mine, my lady,” the man said in a calm, controlled voice. 

“Umino has offered to help with your work and with the coordination between your office and mine for the duration of your stay,” Hatake continued, eyes closing in what was probably a smile. Hard to tell, with the mask on. “He should be able to help you find all the resources you need.” Umino nodded his affirmation to Choko. “Now,” Hatake continued, “I would like to what this ‘treaty’ I’ve been hearing about is actually about.” 

Choko raised an eyebrow at that. “Have you not been briefed?” 

The Hokage shrugged, apparently not caring about decorum much. “I have received too many letters and not enough information. It’s all been ‘yadda, yadda, please help, it’s an emergency,’ with much confusion and little definite answers.” 

Choko nodded. It wasn’t the first time she had seen administrators lose their head in panic. “Alright, then. Make yourself comfortable. Coffee, anyone?” 

When her offer was politely declined, Choko made herself a cup anyway and came to sit at the table with the two men. “In the last three years, the Ministry of agriculture, in cooperation with Suna’s head of Technology and development, has been working on a new kind of machinery. I’ll spare you the details, but it would make labouring and sowing much easier. We estimate that we could almost double our yearly food production with its induction.”

The Hokage whistled. “That’s very good. But why the hurry?” 

Choko took a sip of coffee, burned her tongue, cursed, and set the cup on the table. “You know that Wind’s daimyo holds very little power in the country and that the real head of state over there is the Kazekage, right?” Hatake and Umino nodded silently in agreement. “Well,” Choko continued, “the Kazekage’s position is very fragile at the moment. As a jinchuuriki, as well as a man barely out of diapers-” 

“He’s not a jinchuuriki anymore,” the Hokage interrupted. 

“I know,” Choko said, annoyed. “But the reality is that Gaara terrorized Suna for a long time, and that many people find it very hard to accept him as a leader. And, honestly, he’s too young. His sister would have made a better choice,” Choko sniffed. “There’s a strong opposition to Gaara in Suna, headed by a man called Tatsuo. Gaara has an evaluation coming up, and if he is not considered adequate for the role anymore, he’ll be removed and replaced as Kazekage.” 

“Would that be possible?” Umino asked. “Is Gaara’s position so delicate that he could be removed?”

“Yes, I’m afraid,” Choko said. “One of Gaara’s aces is his relationship with Fire country. He promised to strengthen his relationship with our capital by the time of the evaluation, and if he manages to get the treaty ready, he’s almost certain to keep his position.” Choko got up to bring to the table the draft of the treaty. “See. We developed the technology for the machinery with Suna’s engineers and added a clause for an exclusive trade agreement: they will build the machines, and will lend them to us, for a price. We’ll also reduce taxes on food trading between the two nations. It’s a good deal. Scratch that, it’s a  _ great _ deal for Suna.” 

“What would have happened if…” The Hokage looked as if he was searching for his words. 

“If I had died instead of my brother? Or if he had done the actual work? Well, without a head of project, and with Isao gone in the wind, it would have taken several more months to complete the agreement, at least. By that time, the evaluation would have been done.” 

Umino leaned back in his chair. “Hm. I see. And what do you think happened? Why would Grass want to destroy this opportunity?”

Choko rubbed her forehead, willing a persistent headache away. “I am not sure. We have had a good relationship with Grass for many years, now. At least in the trading department. And I have had little time to think about it.” 

Umino’s lips thinned in sympathy, but thankfully, he did not make a comment about Choko’s recent losses. 

“You brought other dignitaries with you,” the Hokage said. “Will they be working on finishing the treaty with you?” 

“Yes,” Choko said. “It’s unfortunately necessary, if we want to make the deadline. Speaking of which, I’ll have to send for them. We need to start to work right away.” 

At the dismissal, Hatake rose from his chair. “I will keep you informed on any development on the situation, Lady Arakawa,” he announced. “Meanwhile, I’ll be in my office, upstairs.” His eyes closed in a smile. “I’m sure Umino can play the messenger for you if you need my help with something.” 

Umino may or may not have made a rude gesture at his Kage as the man left the room. 

*

“I kind of like her,” Iruka announced as they entered the grocery store, in the evening. 

“Who?” Kakashi asked, reaching for a shopping cart. 

“Choko,” Iruka answered. 

“Who?” Kakashi asked, once again, as he tried to disentangle the cart from its siblings. 

“Lady Arakawa.”

“Oh, already on first-name basis, hmm?” Kakashi teased. 

“Oh, shut up,” Iruka retorted. “Do we want peaches or apples this week?” 

Kakashi looked at the food stands. “Can’t we take both?” 

“We’ve lost some fruit last time, I don’t want a repeat of that,” Iruka mused. “So pick one.”

Kakashi took the peaches. “So why is Lady Arakawa interesting?” 

“She’s got spirit.”

“Let me guess. She’s a perfectionist-slash-workaholic, and you bonded over well-organized files.”

“Ha, ha. You’re hilarious,” Iruka drawled. 

“I know.” 

They argued about the kind of meat the wanted for dinner and deliberated about if they would have time to make homemade sushis sometime through the week (probably not) before returning on the subject of work. “There’s something weird about this whole affair,” Kakashi said. “I talked it over with Shikamaru. The leading theory is that Grass allied with Gaara’s opposition, Tatsuo. Isao disappeared with important scrolls regarding the project. He could sell them to Tatsuo. But is that new technology worth bringing Fire’s ire upon Grass?” 

“You think this could develop into something serious?” Iruka asked. 

“Yes,” Kakashi answered. “It’s already straining Fire’s relationship with Grass badly. Of course, they’re denying any involvement in the affair. And our spies don’t know anything about the incident. I’ve been told that Grass is sending an emissary to the capital to try to sort things out. She should arrive there within a day or two.” 

“Well, let’s hope we find a diplomatic resolution to this whole affair. No, no seaweed, you know Gai’s coming over for dinner tomorrow. He’s allergic.” 

“I wasn’t going to  _ give him some- _ ” 

“We’re not buying any, and that’s final.” 

*

Shino was starting to get tired. His calves burnt with fatigue and he knew that his chakra was starting to get a bit too low for full efficiency. He would need to request a rest-time from his teammates soon, but right now, his pride was at war with his professionalism. He felt proud of having been dispatched for this mission : Shiranui and Inuzuka were experienced shinobi, with reputations already made years ago, and Shino was pretty sure that Oba was ANBU. A high-profile team indeed. 

Some chatter from his kikaichu distracted Shino from his inner musing. Immediately alert, he searched for the source of the disturbance. Signaling his teammates of a potential discovery, Shino quietly followed the chatter of his insects to a trail. 

“Attaboy, Shino,” Inuzuka congratulated him as she crouched in front of the prints, sniffing. “That’s Isao.”

“But not just Isao,” Oba announced from another spot. “One more… two…”

“At least three, possibly four,” Shiranui finished. 

“Is he with accomplices? Or is he being trailed?” 

Shino looked at the pacing between the prints. “I would suggest that he is being pursued by a small group of shinobi. Other than us, that is.” 

“I agree,” Shiranui said, getting up. “I’ll send a message to the boss. Get ready to move out.” 

Shino nodded, his earlier fatigue evaporating under a rush of adrenaline. 

*

 

“A third party,” Hotaka thought out-loud. “No, a fourth party.”

“Fire, Wind, Grass, and an unknown group,” Michiko said. “The question is, who’s profiting in all this affair? Follow the money and whatnot.” 

“Or go back to work, you gossip mongrels,” Choko called from behind a pile of files. 

Iruka kept himself from smiling at the small woman’s irritability.  She had a no-nonsense approach to all of her work that he could get behind. If only Kakashi had that kind of drive, Iruka thought, before correcting himself. If that was the case, he would  _ never  _ see his boyfriend. 

The helpers Choko had brought with her were not as bad as predicted. Sure, they were a bit pretentious at time, but Iruka thought that that was court etiquette bleeding through. They did a good job at organizing documents, writing correspondences, and sorting through legal matters. Iruka tried to squeeze as many hours he could to helping out, his help being necessary in accessing Konoha’s resources (especially the restricted ones) quickly, but he was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed with his workload. He gave his mornings to the Academy, where he coached Hinata, worked with Choko and her team after a quick lunch (when there was any time for lunch), climbed upstairs to finish up some paperwork for Kakashi in late afternoon, went back home, made dinner, ate while working on leftover paperworks, and planned lessons and corrected homework until late at night. His nights seemed to get shorter and shorter. 

It would not be so bad if Kakashi hadn’t as big of a workload lately, and if he could help out with the house. In the last few days, Kakashi had to play the politician way more than he was comfortable with. He dealt with Choko’s team daily, had to coordinate Fire’s response to Grass with the capital and the village’s council and clan-heads, had developed a heavy correspondence with Suna that would continue until the treaty was delivered and signed, and still dealt with the rest of his duties as Hokage. It stressed him out, and so he slept badly and was cranky during the day, which led to arguments between him and Iruka. 

They had a big one about Iruka’s involvement with Choko’s team. Kakashi thought Iruka ought to take a break and leave the work to somebody else. Iruka disagreed. He  _ was _ Kakashi’s sort-of-assistant for the time being. 

For now, though, they had decided to leave the subject alone. They had little time for personal issues for the moment. 

“What do you think, Sir shinobi?” Michiko asked, pulling Iruka out of his thoughts. 

Iruka smiled at the young woman, one of the five helpers Choko had brought with her to Konoha. “You can call me Iruka. We don’t have any definite answer to who the people pursuing Isao are. Fire has an uneasy relationship with several nations, and Grass has its own difficulties. And that is without counting Wind country… Our analysts are working on it.” 

“Umino,” Choko called from where she was sitting, “less gossiping, more work. Chop, chop.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Iruka answered, amused. “What were the files you needed me to bring to the archivists?” 

As Choko designated a heavy pile of papers, Michiko jumped up. “I can help, Sir shi- Iruka.” 

Iruka considered the young woman’s earnest face. He didn’t  _ need _ help, but… “Why not? You can take half.” 

They walked down to the archives, chatting on the way. In his habit of gathering information and his knowledge that people generally like to talk about themselves, Iruka encouraged Michiko to tell him stories about herself. Michiko was a noblewoman from the capital who had, by some stroke of luck, been able to evade marriage until now and found an actual job as a research assistant to the Ministry of agriculture. She dreamed of doing something interesting, something noteworthy with her life. Like Lady Tsunade, she said, before blushing. “Not exactly like her,” she said. “I’m not strong, and I can’t manipulate chakra. But, you know…” 

“Be in a position of leadership, you mean?” Iruka asked. “Oh, hi, Hachi.”   
  


The head archivist smiled through his enormous white beard. “Iruka. Still running errands for our Hokage?” 

“Not today,” Iruka said. “I’m here for Lady Arakawa. She needs the references for these documents to be checked out. Do you have anybody available?” 

“What are interns for, do you think?” Hachi answered with a hearty laugh. “Just leave it on the counter and sign here. I’ll keep you updated. Urgent matter?”

“Very,” Iruka insisted. 

As they headed back, Iruka asked Michiko: “Do you feel like taking a walk? I have to go see the Hokage and get some documents from my- the office. Have you met him yet?” 

“No, I haven’t” Michiko answered. “But I would be honored to!” 

The office was a mess. Iruka had had very little time to sort things out in the last few days, and more paperwork appeared everyday. He really needed to sit with Kakashi and select a real assistant, pronto. “Sorry for the mess,” Iruka said. “Can you help me out? I’m looking for a binder titled ‘Economics of southern provinces’.” 

“Yes, of course!” 

It took several minutes, but Michiko found the binder under a pile of other documents. “I think I have it!” she exclaimed, smiling triumphantly. 

“Good job,” Iruka smiled back. “Thank you for you help.” 

Michiko blushed, then looked down at her feet, looking embarrassed. “Michiko, is something the matter?” Iruka asked in his understanding voice, oh-so-useful with the children he worked with. (And adults, too, sometimes.) 

The young woman looked up at Iruka and took an inspiration. “Iruka, do you want to come to dinner with me?” 

Iruka blinked. “I don’t-” 

“Oh, Umino! I was wondering when you would finally show up.” 

Iruka turned to the door, relieved at hearing Kakashi’s voice. Saved! Except that Kakashi’s expression was carefully blank, something he did whenever he was feeling upset. “Of course, sir Hokage,” Iruka said, puzzled. “I’ll come right away. Have you met Michiko Fukumoto? She’s an assistant to Lady Arakawa.”

“No, I haven’t had the chance,” Kakashi answered, eyes closing in a smile as he turned to Michiko. Was that a fake smile? Iruka wasn’t completely sure, but it looked like a fake smile. “A pleasure, Miss Fukumoto.” 

Michiko bowed deeply. “The pleasure is all mine, sir Hokage.” 

When Kakashi was gone, Iruka turned to Michiko. “Hm. I don’t think he’s in the mood for visitors. Would you mind going back downstairs alone while I go speak to him? And bringing the blinder?” 

“I would be happy to,” Michiko answered. 

When Iruka entered the Hokage’s office, Kakashi was staring at a pile of paper of his desk, fiddling with the pen in his right hand absently. “Sorry for the delay, Kakashi.” When Kakashi continued to stare resolutely at his desk, Iruka lifted his eyebrows. Was he sulking? “Is anything the matter?” 

Kakashi stayed silent. 

“Is it about Michiko? She’s a kid. She has a crush. Don’t resent her for it.” 

At that, Kakashi did look up, grumpily. “I’m not worried.” 

_ You are, _ Iruka thought,  _ and I’m not sure why this is even an issue. _ Well, Kakashi did not look as if he wanted to breach the subject right now, and Iruka agreed. They were still on work hours. “So, about the mission roster…” 

They worked on various administrative issues for a time, then, decisions taken, delegated the rest of the work on various tower employees. Iruka was about to go back to the assistant’s office to continue working when Kakashi said: “You  _ do _ remember that Gai is coming over tonight, right?” 

“Oh, damn,” Iruka swore. “And I think I forgot to get the fish out of the freezer this morning.” 

“I did it,” Kakashi said, and Iruka felt a wave of gratitude for his boyfriend. “I can cook, if you want. Anyway, we’re going home early.” 

Iruka’s thoughts went immediately to his ever-elongating to-do list, but he was caught. He couldn’t get out of dinner to work, especially dinner with Gai. It would be of unbelievable bad taste. “Okay,” Iruka agreed, reluctantly. “I’ll just get my things.” 

*

Gai arrived right on time, as always. Kakashi was the one to open the door, and he immediately felt some of the anxiety of the last days dissipate at his friend’s big smile and ridiculous green jumpsuit. “Kakashi, my Eternal Rival!” Gai exclaimed, with a thumbs up. Once upon a time, he would have crushed Kakashi in a hug, but his wheelchair now made it difficult. Kakashi presented his closed fist, which Gai hit with a wink. 

“It’s good to see you,” Kakashi admitted. “Come in!” 

Iruka and Kakashi had bought the house after Gai’s injury. They had spent many weekends making it adapted so everything would be accessible by wheelchair. Gai easily rolled over the doorway and into the house. “Where’s you sweet other half, my friend?” Gai asked, looking around for Iruka. 

“Getting some oregano from the garden,” Kakashi answered. 

As if on cue, Iruka opened the back door, scissors and leaves in hand. “Gai!” he exclaimed brightly. “I’m happy you made it. Is that dessert I see in your chair?” 

Gai reached for a box in the basket on the back of his wheelchair. “As promised, only the best pastries of Konoha for my favourite couple!” 

Kakashi watched with a smile as Iruka took the box, laughing, and sat next to Gai to open it. “Wow, Gai. You’ll need to lend us your chair when we’re finished, we’ll be too fat to walk anywhere,” Iruka joked. Kakashi loved how Iruka never made an issue of Gai’s disability, as some other friends of theirs did. It was very painful to be reminded of Gai’s crushed career - never would he be able to work as a shinobi again, not without his legs. And that was without speaking of his internal injuries, that he ruined his impeccable health. How he kept his spirit up through it all, Kakashi had no idea. 

They moved quickly to the table, all of them quite hungry. “So,” Kakashi asked, “anything new for you?” 

Gai waved his fork around. “Nothing much in the health department. I’ve been thinking of doing some teaching work at the Academy, lately. What do you think, Iruka?” 

Kakashi watched as Iruka thought seriously of the question. “You’re a very good motivator, that’s for sure. I think you should teach advanced classes, though. Your experience would be very useful for chunin or higher-level shinobi.” 

Kakashi hummed his agreement. “I think you should do some coaching for the corps.”

“ANBU?” Gai asked, blinking. “But I’ve never been accepted in their ranks.” 

Kakashi shrugged. “You’ve done more in your career than most of them will do in their lives. I would have been grateful to have such a mentor in my own time there.” 

As always when Kakashi gave Gai a compliment, the man seemed at a loss. He quickly recovered, though, smiling brightly. “Such a good idea! Thank you both. I shall consider it.” 

They chatted a bit more before the subject of Gai’s role as a guide for Choko came up. “How’s your work with Lady Arakawa?” Iruka broached the subject. Kakashi frowned, feeling slightly annoyed. He didn’t especially want to hear about Arakawa, or about her team. He dealt with them enough through the day as it was. 

“Doing quite well! Lady Arakawa is a strong-willed, youthful woman!” Kakashi didn’t know if the adjective was quite right, since Arakawa looked in her late forties or early fifties. She was a vigorous woman, though, that Kakashi agreed with. “We went shoe-shopping together!” Gai finished with his trademark thumbs-up. 

Iruka let out a disbelieving laugh. “Choko? Shoe-shopping? Are we talking about the same person?” 

The conversation derived to other things, and before long they drifted to the living room to eat pastries. Kakashi sat in his favourite couch, next to Iruka, their thighs pressing against one another. “Have you heard from your students lately?” Gai asked Kakashi. 

“We got a little something from Naruto last week,” Kakashi said. “He’s still on his diplomatic training with Tsunade, which he complains about at every occasion possible.” 

“Sakura has been keeping us updated about her travels with Sasuke,” Iruka added. “He never writes much, but he likes to send Kakashi little trinkets. Stuff from local artists. Look…” Iruka got up to show Gai their old student’s last little gift. “What about your students, Gai?” 

His two remaining students, Kakashi thought sadly. Gai should have had the opportunity to teach as a jounin longer. He had been  _ good _ at it. “Well, Tenten is thinking of going for an apprenticeship in the Land of Iron. She’s can’t get much better as a weapon master in Konoha. I think she’s still trying to convince her boyfriend to come with her. As for Lee…” Gai sighed. It was so uncharacteristic from him that Kakashi startled. “He’s going through a hard time.” 

“Is it Neji?” Iruka asked, a worried expression on his face. 

“Partly,” Gai admitted. “He lost another teammate in a recent mission. A friend of his. It’s hitting him hard, since he’s never really recovered after Neji.” 

“Can we do anything?” Iruka asked, earnest. 

Gai shook his head. “It’s grief. He needs to process it by himself. We’ll be there when he’ll be ready to move on.” 

Later, after Gai had gone, Kakashi reflected on his friend’s words. He had never been very good himself at handling his losses, and had only recently learned to open up about it. Sitting on his bed, Kakashi watched as Iruka untied his hair and passed a hand through it, grimacing at a knot. As Iruka went through his routine, getting off his day clothes and changing into his pyjama, disappearing in the bathroom only to come back a minute later, toothbrush in hand, to ask Kakashi if he ‘had seen the toothpaste, I could swear I left it next to the sink this morning’, Kakashi felt something tighten in his chest. 

He did not want to get jealous when it came to Iruka. He hated the feeling, the lack of trust it demonstrated, the strain it put in his relationship. Thinking back at the pretty little woman who had asked Iruka out earlier, Kakashi felt a flush of anger through his body. The mere thought of Iruka getting interested in somebody else made him want to hit a wall. Fear of abandonment, a psychologist had once told him. Unprocessed grief. 

The bed creaked and Kakashi looked up at Iruka, who was looking back at him with concern. “Kakashi, you’ve been off today. Talk to me.” 

Kakashi sighed, letting himself fall back onto his pillow. “Do I have to?”

“I think so, yes,” Iruka said. 

True. It was just… hard. “I hate that woman.”

“Who?”

“The one you were with this afternoon. I hate her.” And that was true. Unreasonable, excessive, black hatred, for somebody he did not know at all. 

Iruka frowned, visibly biting back a retort, and came to sit next to Kakashi, leaving his toothbrush on the nightstand. “Why do you hate Michoko?” 

“I…” Kakashi rolled on his side, reaching for Iruka’s hand. “Just… the way she was looking at you. It’s stupid.” 

“Hm,” Iruka answered. “I don’t know about stupid. You don’t usually get jealous, at least not lately. What set this off?” 

Kakashi thought about it, trying to find the source behind his hateful feelings. “I think it’s got to do with all the little fights,” he finally decided. 

Iruka squeezed Kakashi’s hand. “It  _ has _ been harder since you’ve become Hokage. We have had little time to ourselves. I don’t feel like I’m slipping away from you, though. Do you feel like I’m slipping away?” 

Kakashi shook his head. “Not… exactly? Just… You’ve been so tired, lately. Short-tempered. I’m not sure how to put things right.”

Iruka looked surprised, and then laughed. “Why, I was thinking the same thing about you!” 

“Really?” Kakashi said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Iruka said. “I think we’ve both been working too hard. We can’t even see straight anymore.” 

“I never see straight,” Kakashi said in mock-seriousness, kissing Iruka’s hand. 

Iruka laughed, the sound warming Kakashi and making something relax inside his gut. He Iruka in for a hug, before starting to tickle his sides. Iruka howled, half in laughter and half in indignation, and Kakashi smiled. 

*

Time passes in a blink of an eye when you’re busy. With the clock ticking on a project, it runs even faster. Choko had been in Konoha for almost three weeks, now. Two more weeks until the evaluation of young Gaara’s leadership as Kazekage. Three days to get the paperwork to Suna, where it would need to be read, validated, and then signed. At least two more days lost there. To be certain that everything would work, a whole week would be better. Maybe if Choko stole some of those useful little pills shinobi used on mission for a last-minute boost of energy… 

Choko glanced at the clock. 23:28, it read. Her eyes felt heavy and she couldn’t remember the last few pages she had read. Tiredly, she rubbed her eyes with closed fists and got up for another cup of coffee. She prayed that her heart would bear some more stimulants. The smell of coffee would probably remind her of these weeks in Konoha until the day she died. 

“Anybody else needs a boost?” Choko asked through a yawn. 

An affirmative chorus answered her. Choko distributed cups of hot coffee to her tired team, finishing with Iruka, who was so absorbed with what he was writing that he jumped when Choko put the cup in front of him. “Thank you, Choko,” the man smiled warmly. 

Choko had been doubtful at having a shinobi on her team when she had arrived in Konoha, but now she did not know how she could manage without the younger man. Iruka worked in an organized and efficient manner that she could only approve of. He also had a way with people: Choko could swear he knew  _ everybody _ in the tower. And outside of it. Probably in all of Konoha, Choko thought with amusement. And people  _ wanted _ to help him, with his warm voice and nice smiles. 

(And well. Choko knew that she had invisible guards somewhere around, but having a fully-trained killer dedicated to helping her in the same room made it quite easier to concentrate. She still woke up in the middle of the night, thinking she had been gutted, her eyes torn out of her eyes, in a horrific vision similar to the fate of her late brother. Oh, Daisuke. Poor, poor Daisuke...)

Choko wasn’t even back in her chair (which she was growing to hate with a passion. She was sick of sitting all day) when a knock on the door stopped her. 

Shikamaru Nara entered, looking preoccupied. Choko wondered if he ever slept. The few times she had had meeting with the young man, it had been at ungodly hours. He had dark rings under his eyes, partly hidden by the rectangles of his glasses, and some hair had escaped from his eternal ponytail, falling over his forehead. With his earrings and leather jacket, he looked more like a rock-band member than a Kage’s main advisor. He was trailed by the ashy smell of cigarettes, although he wasn’t smoking one at the moment. Choko had forbidden him its usage in her presence on their first meeting. He hadn’t argued. 

“Ah, Lady Arakawa,” Nara bowed. He nodded at the rest of the team, reserving a smile for Iruka (his old teacher, apparently). “I was wondering if I could have a minute of your time?” 

Choko followed Nara deeper inside the suite, where they would be alone. “What is it, Nara?” Choko asked curtly. She was tired and that made her cranky, she knew.  _ I shall become a mean old lady in my old age, _ she thought with an silent chuckle. 

“There is something that has been bothering me. It’s about your time undercover.” 

Choko almost smiled at that. Nara persisted in presenting her as an undercover government agent instead of a crazy woman who had usurped her brother’s role. (Nobody told her that last thing to her face, of course. But Choko had ears, and she listened to the trail of whispers that had followed her in the capital). It was quite a refreshing take on the situation. “What about it?” 

Nara pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “Well. You could not have done your job with at least some people knowing about your actual responsibilities, right? Even though I’m sure you murked the waters as much as possible.” 

Choko nodded her agreement. “My brother knew, of course. And my assistant, Aiwa. A few other people, too, but mostly I presented myself as my brother’s in-between. Why?” 

Nara frowned. “Isao was your brother’s closest associate. I don’t understand how he could not have known, or at least suspected, of the true nature of your involvement.” 

Choko froze. “Oh. Yes, he probably… he probably knew.” The realisation of what that meant hit her like a brick. “How could I have not thought of that?” She closed her hands in fists, dread filling her. “Stupid, stupid,” she muttered to herself. “How could I be so stupid?” 

Nara shook his head. “It’s not your fault. You’ve been under a great amount of stress. If anything, I should have thought of it sooner.” He sighed. “I think that Isao was set-up, and that the people who are after him wanted to silence him on the night of the murder. Luckily, he escaped.”

“They’re the real culprits,” Choko breathed, and now it was anger that rose within her. She felt her face flush in emotion. “The bastards. And here I thought- I thought Isao had-”

“Nothing is certain yet,” Nara said. “I need to report this to the Hokage. I’ll keep you updated.” 

Choko was left alone in the room, fists clenched, heart pumping hard. “Stupid,” she muttered to herself once more, before collecting herself and going back to her team. 

*

The messenger bird woke-up Genma with a shrill trill. Instantly, he was awake, automatically crouching in a defensive position, hand reaching for his weapon. Three weeks leading a chase after a man and another team of shinobi, all probably very dangerous, had left his nerves frayed. He relaxed at Konoha’s seal as he took the tightly rolled parchment. With a practiced gesture, he broke the seal and started to read. Then he swore. 

“What’s happening?” Oba asked, head peeking into the tent. She had been on guard-duty. Genma assumed that Shino was still patrolling. Next to him, Inuzuka was still waking-up, looking groggy. 

“Go get Shino,” Genma ordered. “The mission parameters have changed.” 

When they were all assembled, Genma made his report. “Seems like Isao probably didn’t kill Arakawa, after all,” he announced.

Inuzuka groaned. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me. Who did, then?” 

“It is likely that the team of unknown shinobi pursuing Isao of Grass are the perpetrators of the murder,” Shino analysed instantly, in his eternally solemn voice. Genma swore to himself that he would bring the kid to a bar and make him loosen up a bit as soon as the mission was over. 

“We still have to retrieve Isao,” Genma said. “Only, now we have to protect him. Capture if possible, flight if not, kill on last resort for the unknown team.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Inuzuka said. “Can I go back to sleep, now? I still had an hour left.” 

Genma lifted an eyebrow. “Now that we’re all awake? No way. We’re moving out.” 

He ignored the grumbling and the curses as he started gathering his things. 

*

Wearily, Isao kneeled next to the small stream. It ran through the dead leaves of the forest floor, barely visible, and Isao would have missed it had the sun not been out, stray beams of light streaming through the dense foliage of the trees and hitting the water. It was the end of the summer and already the ground was growing colder, and when Isao came in contact with the wet leaves, he shivered. He had nothing left to carry water with, and so he had to bend down to ground level to drink directly from the stream, angling himself so the water would run his way. No time to find a better section of the stream, where the water would be better filtered by small rocks and sand. Isao tried not to think about what this could do to his health. He could mend things after he got to Grass. If he survived. 

His thirst quenched, Isao got up slowly. Leaves stuck to his weary knees and to his dirty palms, cold and slimy where they touched skin. Exhaustion made Isao stumble when he stepped away from the water, but will kept him up. Tiredly, the man carefully fixed the leaves behind him to make it difficult to follow his trail. He had no energy left to climb trees and leap from the thick branches of Konoha’s forests. He kept his remaining chakra close to his skin, erasing his presence as much as possible, a task made easier by years of espionage in Konoha’s capital. 

Isao had lost his pursuers two days ago, but he was sure they would find their way back to him. Three times already he had thought he had escaped, only to narrowly avoid the shinobi as their chakra reappeared, felt by Isao’s sensitive senses. Since that horrible night at the capital, weeks ago (he had lost count of days early on, in his frantic escape), Isao did not think he had crossed the border of the lands of Fire. His ennemis made him run in circle, away from the safety of home. 

It had taken some time for Isao to understand the situation correctly. He still remembered with fright how he had woken up in his room, alerted by the broken seals at his window, a dark shadow partially blocking the moonlight falling into his room. He had scrambled out of bed, narrowingly avoiding a thrown dagger, and had run to his study, barricading the door with his heavy chair as he looked around for something to defend himself with. There had been nothing much available. Anyway, he was a dead man if any shinobi caught him, not being trained as a killer himself. So Isao had pulled his chakra upon himself and thrown himself out of his study’s window, down to the balcony under it. The landing had jarred his bones and made him bite through his cheek. Ignoring the blood flowing in his mouth, he had gone inside, intend on getting help. Only there was nobody in the room, as it was an unused suite for foreign dignitaries, and when Isao had gone to open the door to the corridor, but as familiar chakra dropped down the balcony, he dropped to the floor, avoiding another salve of weapons. Rolling away, he managed to get away once more, focusing of his chakra sensing skills instead of his eyes to track the assassin. 

The man who had invaded his room had not done so by accident. He had not been an ANBU agent. Was it still a Fire agent? Who would want both him and Arakawa dead? He had no more time to think about it. Three other dark shapes joined the first one, intent to gut him, and Isao fled through the dead of night. 

Isao had managed to shake off his assailants for a time, but then bells had rung in the night, ordering a state of high alert for the palace. Was it for the assassins, or for Isao? The man did not wait to find out. He had sneaked away into the city, to one of his hideouts, where he had taken some equipment and changed before collecting his horse at the stables near the gates and escaping at a dead gallop from the capital. 

A day later, stopping at small town to get news and try to know if it was safe to contact the capital, he was told by gossips that a Grass spy had killed the Minister of agriculture. Understanding that he had been dupped, Isao had decided to go back home and explain the situation there, in the relative securities of his borders. 

And then the assassins had found him again, and Isao had fled. 

Now he had no horses, almost no money left, and no food. His limbs shook at every step, exhaustion dragging him down. He suspected that he had an infection developping in a cut on his arm, and white pain washed over his vision when he touched it. He had nothing to disinfect any of his injuries with, anyway.   

Would he be able to reach Grass border in his condition? Despair edged Isao’s thoughts, but he had little choice but to go on. After minutes Isao’s walk dissolved into a painful limp from a violent cramp in his left leg. Gritting his teeth, he went on. 

Then he felt the chakra, and he almost cried out in dismay. It was them, again. Curses! Isao frantically looked for a hiding spot. He lucked out. There was cover under the intertwined, enormous roots of ancestral trees nearby. Forcing himself not to panic, Isao erased his tracks and slid into the nook, chakra tight against himself. 

Soon he heard the rustle of leaves being treaded upon. Small branches, concealed under the leaves, crunched underfoot. “Wait,” a heavily accented voice said quietly. 

There was the sound of a bird approaching, wings beating, and then a soft thump as the animal landed. It croaked. “Arakawa is progressing fast,” murmured another voice after a few seconds of silence. A woman, this time. “Too fast. She will be in time to deliver the goods.” 

The man spoke softly again. “I did not want it to come to this.” A sigh. “Konoha, then.”

“Yes.”

Seconds later they were gone, the quiet sound of their feet soon drowned by the ambient sounds of the forest. Heart beating like mad, Isao waited some more. His mind was working fast. He thought he understood, now. 

Yes. And he had to warn Konoha. 

*

Genma was growing frustrated. Several times now, his team had almost caught up Isao, only to be led on a merry chase by the unknown group of shinobi that also trailed the Grass spy. He knew that his team was tired and wanted to go home. Well, he wanted that, too, but these shinobi were well trained, and they were slippery. 

Suddenly Inuzuka stopped in her tracks. As she was first in line, with both her huge dog companions, Genma signaled for a stop and went to her. “What do you see?” He asked. 

Inuzuka knelt on the ground and inhaled. Genma briefly wondered how the world looked, through that over-sensitive sense of smell of her. “They split,” she said. “And this time, it’s as clear as day.”

Genma puzzled over that. “Are they coming back for us, do you think?” 

“No way to be sure,” Inuzuka said. 

Genma hummed around his senbon. “Alright. We follow Isao, then.”

Isao’s path was easier to follow than it had been since the beginning of the hunt, almost a month earlier. It was as if he could not be bothered anymore to erase his tracks. As the man was one of the most astute and skilled stealth-master Genma had encountered in his career, this seemed quite strange.

Less than an hour had passed before Inuzuks growled: “Fresh steps. He’s just ahead!” 

The whole teamed pressed on. They emerged from the forest. In front of them were immense golden fields, ready for reaping. A road in beaten earth made a trail between the fields, leading into the distance. And a few hundred meters ahead, the figure of a man walked, small in the distance. “It’s him!” Oba exclaimed, and Inuzuka’s dogs barked in excitement. 

The barking was loud enough that it travelled through the distance, and Genma saw the figure turn to them, and then start running in the opposite direction. The shinobi cursed under his breath. “Isao of Grass!” Genma shouted. “We mean no harm!” When the man did not stop (and why would he, after the last few weeks he had gone through), Genma signaled to his team,  _ go _ . 

It was all over quite fast. Genma’s team spread through the fields, easily outrunning a heavily limping Isao and surrounding him. Genma emerged from the crops to stand in front of the spy. “Isao! Konoha offers hers protection!” Genma said in a loud, authoritative voice. 

The man stuttered to a stop. “Konoha?” he asked, and his voice cracked, probably from disuse. Then his bad leg gave way under him, and he half-collapsed. Genma did not help him. It could still be a ploy, and Isao could be dangerous. 

“You were tricked,” Genma said. “An unknown group of shinobi made it look as if you had assassinated Daisuke Arakawa. We know you didn’t.” They strongly suspected, actually, but Genma wanted the man’s cooperation. “We have been charged with the mission to bring you back to Konoha for your safety.” 

The man looked up at Genma. He had a thin, worn face, bloodied and dirty. A wild beard, spotted with white, covered his chin and hollow cheeks. His skin was covered in sweat. From the chase, simple exhaustion or something more grave, Genma could not tell at first glance. “They’ve gone to Konoha,” Isao managed to say with his broken voice. 

“The assassins?” Genma asked.

“Yes,” Isao hissed. “They’re going to kill Choko. You have to stop them.” 

Dread filled Genma. He turned to his team. “Inuzuka, Shino, help Isao back to Konoha. Oba, you’re the fastest. Spare no energy, and fly home to warn the Hokage. I’ll follow.” 

And then they were gone. 

*

They arrived to Konoha at dusk. 

They were travel-weary. Their mission had gone to hell weeks ago, and now they had one last chance to see it through. It was an insane attempt, in all probability a suicide mission. They were infiltrating one of the most well-defended cities of the continents, with a ratio of shinobi-to-citizen unknown anywhere else. Monsters lived in Konoha, and they had little mercy for their enemy. 

Getting in took some time, and they were not entirely successful. One of them was detected and quickly captured. He made time, though, so that the rest could escape, hiding in the elongated shadows of the end of the day. The alarm was given, and they knew they had very little time to complete their mission. Another one of them acted as a decoy, luring the bloodthirsty forces away, and the two last ones made their way to their target. 

It took all ounce of skill they possessed to subdue a member of Konoha’s secret police, slash her throat and take her mask. The two infiltrators shared a moment of meaningful silence before separating one last time, the mask-bearers heading for the target, the other one creating a new diversion. 

She carefully got in the bulding, hoping that her intelligence was right and about the location of the target. She crept ahead, into richly decorated rooms, and found a group of three people. There was a young man, finely clothed, worrying a hat in his hands. Another man, somewhat stocky, with a scar on his nose, stood looking tense. In the middle was a small woman with greying hair and a slightly crooked nose, probably from an injury in early childhood. She was speaking with animation. Blood pumping, chakra straining, the infiltrator contracted her muscles, and then she leapt.  

*

Kakashi listened to the report that was given to him. “We found an infiltrator near the main gates. Unknown origin. He poisoned himself before we could get to him. There’s at least another one, and the ANBU are in hot pursuit-” 

An explosion shook the Tower. Kakashi, fast at lightening, was at the window, hanging outside, looking for the source of the blow. There was a fire in the eastern part of the village. Shouts of alarm rose from there, carried through the humid air of the end of the day. 

Ducking his head back in, Kakashi ordered: “Get the jounin and chunin ready. We are now on high alert. I want the civilians evacuated: get the genin to take care of it, they’re drilled for it. In teams. And I want a jounin to supervise the operations. Go.”

The messenger ran out of the Kage’s office. At the same time, another person burst in. Kakashi almost gutted her on the spot, before realising that it was Oba. 

“Sir! It’s the assassins from the capital! They’re here for Lady Arakawa!” 

Kakashi swore. “I should have know. Let’s go.” 

They ran. Oba had difficulty keeping up, but Kakashi barely paid any attention to her. He had just realised that Iruka was working with Arakawa, tonight. 

He did not panic right away. He was long practised with stressful situation, and so he ignored the painful twists of sick worry in his stomach. Oba panted that she had noticed ANBU right when she had arrived to the village, and that they probably were already at Lady Arakawa’s quarters. If something was to be done, it probably had already happened. 

When they arrived at the guest’s quarters, ANBU were already on the scene. They tried to report to their Kage, but Kakashi ignored them. He ran through the doors, and the stench of blood hit his sensitive nose like a hammer. 

The walls were painted red. In one corner, Lady Arakawa was sat, alive if shaken, Kakashi noted absentmindedly. There was a body on the floor. The body of a man with dark hair. Blood pounded at Kakashi’s ears, and his stomach twisted violently. Despair rose through his body, overwhelming, and he saw flashes of light.  _ Am I fainting?,  _ Kakashi thought through the horror that had seized him, taking a step back, crunching something under his foot. 

And then he saw the hat, and the colourful feather, half crushed under the body. The tip of the feather had changed color, absorbing the blood on the floor. A surge of desperate hope flashed through him, and Kakashi looked around, searching. “Where’s Umino?” he asked to the room. 

“With the medics, outside,” the shinobi next to Lady Arakawa said. “He got badly burnt, containing the blast.” 

Oh. And as his tunnel vision cleared slightly, he saw the gore more clearly, and he took another step back. Under his feet was a small white thing. Bone or tooth, he could not say. He picked it up. Tooth.

Kakashi waved vaguely at his shinobi to continue his work, and then he turned away, finding the corridor and then the doors to outside, kept wide open. Worried shinobi were waiting for his commands. At one of them, Kakashi threw the tooth. “Found another intruder,” he said. “They tried to blast apart Lady Arakawa and her research, but they didn’t succeed. Keep searching for more intruders. Alive, if possible. We need to know who they are.” His immediate duties done, he asked again: “Where’s Umino?” 

“Carried to the hospital,” a young woman in a bear mask answered. 

“Will he live?” Kakashi forced himself to ask. 

“I think so,” she answered. 

Kakashi hesitated for only a second. “Protect Lady Arakawa and her workplace. I’ll be at the hospital.” And then, he vanished in a body flicker. 

_ Iruka, Iruka, Iruka, _ Kakashi chanted in his head, incapable of thinking of anything else.  _ Iruka.  _

_ Please be okay. _

*

The recovery was slow, but it did not cripple Iruka. It only left him with various new interesting scars. Iruka would have felt self-conscious about it, if Kakashi had not marvelled at them. “You’re alive,” he would say, rubbing the tender skin to ease the pain. “They’re sign of your body healing. I love them.” 

The treaty was sent in time, if a bit bloodied in parts, and Gaara kept his title. Lady Arakawa was showered with gifts and compliments from Wind country and from the daimyo, but the ruler of Fire country still remained silent on the matter of her official title. Some things would take more time than others. 

And, while Iruka was recovering, Kakashi finally hired an assistant, to the teacher’s great relief. Sometimes, he asked himself if he should have quit his job as an instructor, and become the Kage’s official assistant instead. He knew he could have done it. But then… Iruka loved teaching. And, honestly, he could not both work all day and live with his boyfriend. It had strained their relationship thin. 

The mystery of Daisuke Arakawa’s mysterious assassins was solved by Isao of Grass himself. He reported hearing the shinobi speaking with a heavy Earth accent. Kakashi’s leading theory was that Earth, victim to difficult droughts in recent years, had aimed to weaken Fire and Grass’ relationship to be able to invade Grass and take its lands for themselves, without serious repercussions from their powerful neighbours. There was no definite proof, though. All the assassins had died on the day they had invaded Konoha. 

Isao took some time to recover from his ordeal in Konoha. And then, he returned to court. Iruka was amazed at the man’s resilience. 

Iruka was pondering about all of this, sprawled on the couch, when  the front door opened and Kakashi’s voice reached him. “I’m home!” 

“Welcome home,” Iruka called back. He listened as the door was closed back. A rustling sound told him that Kakashi had gone grocery shopping before coming back to the house. A click indicated that the electrical boiler had been put to use, and the scraping of ceramic over wood told Iruka about the mugs being taken out of the cupboard. “Can you make the ginger tea?” Iruka called. 

“With honey?” Kakashi’s voice replied. 

“Yes,” Iruka answered. 

Minutes later Kakashi came from the kitchen, streaming cups of tea in hands. “I’ll need you to make me some space,” Kakashi said, sounding amused. Iruka looked down at the table. His grading papers were sprawled all over.

“Oh, sorry,” Iruka said, gathering his things. 

“It’s okay,” Kakashi chuckled softly. He put the mugs down and came to sit next to Iruka, pressing himself against his side and letting his head drop on his shoulder. “Tsunade is coming back with the brat tomorrow,” he announced. “I can’t tell if I’m relieved or horrified.”

“It won’t be too bad, having Naruto underfoot,” Iruka smiled. “If anything, he’s quite enthusiastic about anything related to Hokage-business. He’ll eat in your hand.” 

Kakashi snorted. “I estimate the chances of that to be very poor.” He shook his head in mock-chagrin. “He likes paperwork about as much as I do.” 

“Or Tsunade did, or the Third before her,” Iruka laughed. “But he’ll do it. It may take him some time, and he may make a mess in the process, but he’ll do it.” 

Kakashi hummed in vague agreement, before changing the subject. “How is Hinata coming along?” 

“Not sure,” Iruka said. “She has a good head on her shoulders, but she has little authority in the classroom. I don’t know why. She handles clan business with admirable ease.” 

“You’ll help her find her place,” Kakashi smiled before turning his head and kissing Iruka above the ear. 

“I hope so.” They remained silent for a few long moments, basking in each other’s heat. “When is Gai coming over for dinner, again?” 

“Friday,” Kakashi said. “He’s bringing Lee. He has started seeing people again.” 

“Oh. Good,” Iruka said, sounding pleased. 

They talked quietly for some more time, and then they went to the kitchen, where they ate sushi. They argued about who would do the dishes. Iruka won. As Kakashi took care of the dirty plates, the teacher went back to his grading. Kakashi had to trick him into getting into pyjama and had to hide the paperwork to make him stop working. Then they brushed their teeth, and slipped under the covers together. Kakashi read a bit of his favourite Icha Icha, reading aloud at particularly savoury sections, making Iruka squirm and laugh in turn. Then they closed the lights, and sleep came easily, devoid, for once, of any nightmare.

_ The end _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Halfway through writing this thing I realized that the main characters of the story were, actually, Choko and Isao and not Kakashi and Iruka. Oops? Well, I tried.


End file.
